Before my wedding, my billionaire fiancé chose my sister’s bridal portrait for the hotel entrance.
Celeste had lived with a heart condition since childhood, so my family believed I should give her anything she wanted—my invitations, my menu, even the right to walk down my aisle first.
Then William took her hand and stepped onto my wedding aisle with her dressed in white.
I slapped her.
Then I gave her the groom too.
“If you love trash that much, you can keep him.”
On our wedding day, William left with her to see a cardiac specialist and ordered me to be dressed and waiting when he returned.
But when he reached the hotel, the bride was gone. The gown was gone. Every design that belonged to me had been removed.
All that remained was my sister’s giant portrait, her charity donors, and a billionaire wedding with no bride.
William thought I was throwing a tantrum.
Then he discovered I was not coming back—and I was about to reclaim the name and talent he had buried for seven years.
This time, winning me back would cost him the entire Blackwood empire.
